We're All In This Together
by Lcsaf
Summary: Team Arrow is bigger than Oliver realizes.
1. Josie

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own a salmon ladder, a crazy amount of tech or a guilt ridden vigilante who makes really poor choices a ridiculous amount of the time. Needless to say, I don't own Arrow or anyone you recognize.

**A/N:** After watching Arrow's passionate speech to the citizen of the Glades, it occurred to me that now that those people have a taken a stand, willing to defend their district, more than a few of them must feel some sort of protectiveness for their home. Or maybe for those that protect the people. And Oliver seems to amass a collection of folks.

The title comes from the song of the same name from High School Musical (which I also don't own). Despite my penchant of breaking into said song at the drop of a hat, I think I can safely guarantee the lack of musical numbers.

* * *

Anyone who's not an idiot knows the sound of the Arrow's Ducati through the Glades. It's a noise Josie is starting to smile at. The man in the green hood is doing good, or at least he's trying to. (Which is more than anyone else around here can say. The cops are useless and all the older people do is complain.) She likes that he's trying to clean up the city, and likes it more when it becomes apparent that he's got a few sidekicks. More people means more help taking out the trash like those assholes and gangbangers that seem to live on every damn corner from her commute between home and the garage. So, yeah, when she hears the bike, she smiles and stays out of the way.

Except anyone who's as good as Josie is with anything mechanic, would frown at the sound she's heard the last two times she's listened to him tear through the district. His bike needs serviced, badly. She wonders if he knows it and is holding off for monetary reasons or if he's just ignorant. A lot of guys are, but she's not sure of the vigilante. It takes a third time to make the decision to try to run down the bike, and two more after that to actually find the damn thing. She'll give him this: dude knows how to hide his bike well, but then, he should...this is the Glades after all.

No one's around when she spots the motorcycle and Josie's extra careful not to be noticed. Dude would probably put an arrow through her if she was the reason his bike got stolen, not to mention whatever else would've probably happened to her by then. Parked behind a convenient dumpster, she's got decent cover to give her most of her attention to the machine. After the obligatory drool moment, she takes frank assessment. Oil, valves, the back tire's a little low and for sure those brake pads need replacing. Josie whistles low to herself and shakes her head at the state. She's kinda disappointed. The Arrow seemed smarter than this. This is Dude-Bro level of negligence.

She's about to pull out her ever ready post-it pad and pencil to make an itemized estimate when a sharp modulated voice stops her.

"What do you think you're doing?"

She got the wall at her back and the Arrow's far away enough that she feels relatively safe enough behind the bike, but he's closer than she'd thought she'd have noticed considering how quickly he sneaked up on her. She's grown up knowing to keep at least one eye out on the street.

Falling back on snark, she responds, "'Bout to take note on the list of complaints this baby's makin'." She pats the bike for extra measure, sure it'll piss him off. But damn if he's gonna make her feel bad about giving his motorcycle the actual love it needs. "Seriously, do you take care of this thing at _all_?"

Of the all the reactions, it surprises her that the man actually seems to pause at that. Josie does too, because she isn't an idiot, but telling off the guy who can arrow her on the spot is a pretty stupid thing to do, but her mouth tends to get the best of her. Must be the Greek in her.

Fortunately, the Arrow doesn't seem to take offense, but offers the lamest excuse ever, instead. "...I've been busy..."

"Yeah, well, you don't get this thing into a shop soon, someone's gonna be busy picking up pieces off the road." She makes some notes and sticks the post-it to the handlebar. "The garage down on Donnlyn, across from Marc's Deli: you know it?"

He nods once. "I do."

Josie offers a small smile. "Bring it there when you aren't busy. It won't be cheap, but I'll only charge half for labor."

"Generous." A joke. She can hear the humor under that weird modulator he's using on his voice. Huh. She'd never peg him for the type.

Lifting an easy shoulder in a half shrug, she returns the sentiment. "Hey, a girl's gotta eat." At his small snort, she drops the facade. "Seriously, the money's actually in the overpriced parts. Labor's not actually that big a deal, except for the fact you basically need three hands to deal with the valves."

He nods.

After a beat, she hedges, "So, I'll see it in the garage, soon? "

He fiddles with his fingers for a minute before stepping closer. Josie automatically takes a step back, which causes them both to freeze before the guy raises both hands. "I'm not going to hurt you," he says, before slowly coming towards her. Josie still holds herself incredibly still as he stops on the other side of his bike. His head is down so the hood completely covers all but the scruff on his chin as he reaches across to pull the sticky note off the handlebar. She doesn't realize she's holding her breath until he speaks. She knows he's supposedly a good guy, but damn. Suddenly she understands why everyone seems to fear him-dude's legitimately intimidating, if not downright scary, even if he's not meaning to be.

"How long would all this take?" he asks, tilting the yellow paper towards her.

She lets out a shaky breath. "Honestly?" she breathes.

He lifts his face enough that she swears she catches a quirk at the side of his mouth. "That would be my preference."

"Prolly a couple a days. Gotta get the parts in first." She nods towards the post-it. "With everything on hand, I can get all that done in a day...but that's just the stuff I know about." What she'd really like to do is take the time to really look it over and see what else needs attention. The Ducati is an early century model, so God only knows when the last time it was serviced. But the Arrow is too close for her to feel safe enough to push her luck.

"Day after tomorrow, it'll be there," he promises. "Can you overnight the parts?"

"I need to see what I'd need to order first, but yeah," she answers. "It's not cheap though. You gonna be able to bankroll it? I know arrowing don't pay."

"It'll be taken care of," he assures Josie.

She frowns but says nothing but "Okay..."

With that the Arrow straddles the bike and Josie takes another step back to get out of the way.

Instead of taking off however, he turns to her. "Hop on."

Completely baffled, she stares at him. "Seriously?"

"A young woman like you shouldn't be out alone at this time of the night in the Glades. I'll take you home."

Josie bristles at that, but is smart enough to know he means well. Still, she isn't gonna let it slide. "I'm getting on, because it's a Ducati and NOT because of that completely sexist comment you just made," she tells him.

He doesn't respond except to tell her to hold on.

She practically skips to work two days later, and grins widely at the promised bike with bag full of cash to pay for the bill and a note thanking her for her help.

She ignores the boys' jealous glares while she works on the bike and takes only what she needs from the bag. She has no doubt the vigilante is testing her, and since the dude knows where she lives now she's not about to fail in or the city by cheating the Arrow. Everyone knows what happens to those who do.

She leaves the bike for him to pick up and a note telling him that she's got his bag at her place. No way in hell she's gonna leave that kind of cash out of her sight.

When she hears the purr of bike pull away later, with the bag of cash she practically shoved back at the man, she smiles.

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	2. Mama

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Arrow or any of the characters you recognize.

**A/N:** Fair warning, I like to eat. A lot. And as such, food shows prominently in my writing. I made myself literally drool writing this chapter, so perhaps it's best not to read this on an empty stomach. Sorry if I make anyone hungry.

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It goes like this: Roy comes down the stairs after solo-patrol on an oddly silent night, bags of delicious smelling Italian in both hands and a befuddled look on his face.

Felicity swivels her chair around at his approach. "Is that Italian I smell?" she asks with a smile. Then cocks her head at his expression when he doesn't answer. "What is it?" she quizzes.

Roy sets down the food and looks over at her and then to Dig and Oliver who have joined them from their sparring on the mats. "Remember that group of thugs we stopped last week, that was harassing the owners of that little Mom'n'Pop Italian restaurant?"

Wiping himself down, the older man replies. "Yes..." Oliver draws out, eyebrows raising as if he's waiting for the point.

Roy simply nods at the bags. "They wanted to thank us."

Felicity and Diggle waste no time tearing into the bags and containers of pasta, sauce, and the tenderest chicken emit mouthwatering aromas. There is salad, bread sticks and sinful look chocolate torte as well.

Roy shrugs. "They wouldn't let me say no."

"I won't either, now. This stuff is amazing!" Felicity moans after dipping a finger in the sauce. She scurries to get the paper plates and napkins to dish onto, while the guys wash up.

It is a fantastic meal and no one thinks anything more of it until Roy has familiar bags in his hand a week later.

"Again?" Diggle chuckles incredulously.

Roy shakes his head and shrugs. "They wouldn't let me say no, man! Besides, Mama says she made it special for us." There are steamed mussels and linguine, excellent grilled fish and garden vegetables and decandant tiramisu.

Felicity grabs a large portion of everything but the mussels and happily applies herself to her meal. "If you don't want it, Dig, I'll eat your share," she teases.

"Oh **HELL** no!" he chuckles.

Oliver eats the fish and veggies but won't touch the pasta, dessert or mussels, leaving the other three to bicker over the leftovers.

* * *

Two days later it's Dig hauling down the bags before they even get started for the night. At Oliver's exasperated face, the other man raised his hands placatingly."Hey, man, YOU try telling a sixty year old Italian woman 'no', when she's shoving food at you."

"Did you at least pay for it?" Oliver asks.

Diggle gives him a 'duh' look. "I _tried_," he offers. "But you'd think I ran over their dog or something. She said the least she could do was make sure Starling's heroes were well fed."

Oliver barely manages to avoid rolling his eyes.

"It is kinda interesting the way they keep balanced meals for you guys," Felicity tosses in her two cents as she helps relieve Dig of his bags and unloads them on the table. "Lean protien, good carbs, veggies..." she trails off after opening a box containing cannolis. "And a little bit of heaven for dessert," she coos.

"The Arrow'll talk to them," Oliver decides. "One meal as a thanks, I get, but this is getting ridiculous."

"Really weirds me out when you do that, man," Diggle sighs then turns his attention to the food.

* * *

Oliver is scowling as he stomps back through the lair later that night. Diggle is grinning broadly, so Felicity is relatively sure it's not actual Arrow related business.

"Oliver went to talk to the Italian owners," John tells her, casting an amused eye on the man in question, as he is putting away his things. "He didn't even get three sentences in before Mama told him to stop being stupid and if it was his job to save this city, it was hers to make sure he had the fuel to do so and trying to pay her was insulting. Someone from Team Arrow is expected on Monday nights from now on, to grab dinner."

The blonde glanced at the vigilante with a smile. That must have been priceless. She wonders if the restaurant has any security cameras she can hack into, purely to see if she can catch the expression on Oliver's face.

"By the way, they know we have a member with a nut allergy, so no worries on there."

No, the only worry is continuing to fit in her clothes for work, so Felicity has Dig up her training in self-defense and tries to squeeze in an extra cardio DVD in her free time. She doesn't really regret it, when it means that on Monday night, she's guaranteed a hot meal and the very real possibility of leftovers. It only gets better when Oliver finally caves and starts bringing some fabulous wine they keep down in the lair for Mondays.

Felicity wants to thank them, but as the boys have pointed out, Mama almost takes personal offense to the idea that she is doing anything but her job, so the blonde leaves glowing reviews on Urban Spoon and Yelp, and leaves an anonymous request to the local food critic to check out the place. It's the least she can do for the woman who's brought their team a little closer together.

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**_Please Review._**


	3. Josie (pt 2)

**DISCLAIMER:** If I actually owned Arrow, Oliver Queen would stop making questionable life choices. Since we all know that's never gonna happen, it's safe to say I don't actually own Arrow.

**A/N:** So there I was, ready to listen to another unsung hero from Team Arrow, when Josie barged right in and demanded to be listened to. This was apparently important to her, and after hearing her tale, I don't really blame her. I'm sorry. I hope next update comes from someone we haven't met yet.

* * *

A month after the Ducati, a red Mini Cooper sits in front of the shop, with the same request for Josie's work, written in a familiar hand. It's supposed to be a simple oil change, but figuring it's coming from the Hood, Josie marks it for a thorough inspection, but has to deal with another car that's due for pickup early, so she focuses on that first.

The Mini's not in too bad shape. The tires need rotating and she checks all the belts and fluids before a commotion at the front catches her attention. The pit isn't completely closed off from the front register, and from her spot under the hood, she can see a tall guy with dark hair and a really sharp suit gesturing at Willie: the garage's owner. He looks pretty insistent and Willie eventually turns and calls her over.

Curious, Josie wipes her hands on her pocket rag and sidles up to the two men at the counter. Up close she can see that the customer's clean shaven, classically handsome and completely out of place in the Glades wearing a tailored suit. For a second she wonders if he's lost. He smiles in a charming manner, but he's not her type and she's not impressed. Still, she's not a mannerless heathen, and offers him a quick perfunctory smile of her own. "What's goin' on?" she asks her boss.

"That Mini: you see who brought it in?" Willie asks, though they both know very well the car was sitting in the lot before the garage opened for the day.

"Noooo," she says slowly, watching the customer in her periph. She wonders for two seconds if he's gonna say the car she's working on is stolen. But guys that tall don't drive cars that short, so it can't be his.

The dude must catch her hesitance, because suddenly, he bursts into animation. "Ray Palmer!" he interjects, holding out a hand to shake.

Out of habit, the Josie raises her hands in fair warning of the grease and oil she's accumulated working on cars all morning.

Palmer's eyes widen in surprise for half a second before the corner of his mouth tugs in a grin, that's as much an acknowledgement for her work as it is a perfunctory apology for causing a faux pas (and Charlie owes her five bucks cause she just used two SAT words in a sentence! Booyah!) The man pulls his hand back and gestures once again to the Mini in the pit. "It's just...that's my friend's car, and I thought she'd be with it. I can't seem to get a hold of her." He offers reasonably with a larger smile.

_Smile. It makes people wonder what you've been up to._ The old phrase she used to smirk at, flashed across her mind.

"Did she say she'd be here?" Willie asks curiously. The garage is known for its honest work, but not it's waiting room, which is basically two stools at the counter, three older issues of drag racing magazines and a tiny black and white tv at the far end of the counter. Customers rarely waited unless the job could be done right then, in the amount of time it took to change oil.

"Well, no," the man admits with a slightly sheepish shrug, while sounding anything but. Which is weird.

So why is Ray Palmer here? Especially when he's already said that he can't get in contact with his friend. And if that's the case, then how did he know where her car would be?

Josie glances over her shoulder at the car, assessing it carefully to see if there's anything distinct about it, that would immediately stand out. Other than the fact it's obviously the nicest car in the pit, there's nothing she can see that someone could specifically point out about the vehicle. She swings her gaze back to the man and tilts her head. "No offense, sir...but you sure this is your _friend's_ car? Starling's not that small. This can't be the only red Mini in town."

Palmer pins her with an searching look. His eyes narrow in thought and she can almost _see_ the cogs in his head turning. She has no doubt this guy's pretty smart, and really slick (he just bought out Queen Consolidated, after all). Josie does her best to stare back at him evenly. She's used to being stared down by guys several times her size, hoping to intimidate her, but she's been a Glades babe all her life and she's past that pointless pissing contest, especially when she refuses to be cowed. This guy is seriously making the hair on the back of her neck rise, though.

"I'm sure this is her car," he tells her simply after a beat or two. "But I guess she's not here." He makes a show of simply scanning the place like Wille's stashed some random female in the tiny front space. He blows out a breath. "Any idea when she'll be back to pick it up?"

Josie blinks at him, incredulously. Apparently Ray Palmer was checking up on a girl, the way she knew some of the "boyfriends" of the Glades did. Her stomach drops. Bolstering herself with the thought of reporting this to the Arrow, Josie offers the man more teeth than smile. "Nope! Not a clue," she chirps brightly. She thrills at defeating creep-plots. She turns back to Willie. "I'm gonna get back to work."

The older man nods and Josie returns to the Mini in the pit, purposefully not looking at the man in the suit, despite the fact she can feel his damn creepy gaze from that far.

Palmer leaves shortly after that, but the creep check up prompts her to spending an extra large amount inspecting the car. Something about a random one percent-er knowing where a car that doesn't belong to him is doesn't sit right with her. She doesn't honestly expect to find anything, using mechanic texts and Google to help her understand each component she's looking at, until she comes across something unreferenced on the underside of the driver's side, just underneath where someone would step into the car. It's no bigger than the size of a dime, and detaches fairly easily. There's a sinking feeling somewhere between her chest and her stomach, 'cause Josie's seen enough tv to understand that she's looking at a tracker of some sort...which explains Palmer in the scummiest of ways.

She takes vindictive pleasure in crunching the tracker under the heel of her work boot, and wonders how she's gonna explain this to the man in green.

The Arrow obviously gets her message she left with the car, because later that night he raps on her window, scaring the ever loving fuck out of her, before pointing up.

Josie keeps an eye out all around as she joins him on the roof of her apartment. She heard the satisfying crunch of the device when she stepped on it, but she's not quite sure she's knocked it out of commission. So there's no telling if anyone's tracking her or not.

"What is it?" Arrow's modulated voice asks, jumping right in.

Josie doesn't waste any time. The vigilante is a busy man. She holds up the tracker. "The red Mini Cooper you left me was being stalked."

There's a moment where he freezes, literally holds himself stone still, before striding forward to pluck the tracker out of Josie's hand, studying the crushed object carefully.

She lets out a short breath before dropping the bomb. Ally or not (and they SO have to be, because no one just drops a new customer in your lap out of nowhere), the Arrow's kinda scary-even if he lets her get away with sassing him. "The owner's a girl?" He doesn't answer at all, but his silence is pointed enough. Fine, she'll work with what she's given. "Ray Palmer showed up today at the garage; looking for her."

"Ray...Palmer?" a synthetic voice repeats. It almost has a tone to it, but it's hard to tell under the modulator. He doesn't sound pleased though.

"Yeah: dude who bought out Queen Consi-"

"I'm aware of who he is," Green growls, cutting her off.

Josie nearly shrinks back, but reminds herself she's got this meeting, simply because she's got the info. She straightens up and gives him the low down. "Well guy shows up middle of the day, looking around for a girl, saying the Coop's her car, but basically admitting that she never called him over and he was keeping tabs on her." She pauses levels the Arrow with a look. "That's the kinda shit you see in abusive relationships, so maybe you should pay him a visit and find out why he thinks it's okay to be keeping tabs on random women. That's like, stalker creepy and that's not okay."

Living in the Glades makes you well aware of all the shitty ways human beings behave towards each other, and bad relationships are showcased every day around here. But she's not naive enough to believe that kind of crap only happens in this district. It's almost worse that it's someone like Palmer, cause guys like that are absolutely used to getting their way all the time, and he's definitely got the means to keep up with any woman he wants...apparently without them knowing about it. That thought makes Josie shiver a little and glance around again.

"I'll look into it," the guy in green says.

That's what the cops say all the time. Josie's taken it for code to mean nothing's gonna get done. "I'd rather you _deal_ with it," she snaps, not caring for a second that her mouth is getting away from her with a pretty dangerous man. "I know you got a million other people to arrow or some shit, but this is important, too! I don't know who this person is, but if it's a friend of yours, I'd think you'd care a little bit more about it."

He fiddles with his fingers for a second, like he's thinking about what he's going to say. "I'm not the police."

She snorts. "That's for damn sure," she agrees quickly.

He continues like she hadn't just cut him off. "When I say I'll do something, I will. But looking into it means I need to do my research because I don't have all the pieces to the puzzle yet." He pauses, and for a second, Josie swears he seems almost approachable for a second as he catches her eye. "But I'm not sweeping it under the rug." He means it, which'll have to satisfy her.

She nods in recognition.

"Thank you," he says, sounding more like the vigilante she knows. Gruff and intimidating, but well-meaning.

She shrugs and steps back half a step, ready to get off the roof and out of easy eyesight. This whole thing's given her the heebie jeebies. "Hey, in this world, girls gotta stick together."

He nods before turning to leave. "Stay safe," he tosses over his shoulder.

"Happy Hunting!" she volleys back, watching him disappear off the roof.

* * *

_For the record, I know Ray's not a bad guy. He's nice and charming and incredibly charismatic, but he seems to have a problem with boundaries. He pinged Felicity's phone and showed up unannounced on her doorstep. And while he doesn't mean anything by it, it does come off as slightly worrying behaviour. I can kinda see where Josie is coming from, especially since she doesn't have all the facts, just the stuff she's been presented with and draws what she believes is a logical conclusion. Considering that, can you blame her for her line of thought?_

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	4. Demanuel

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Arrow. If I did, there'd be a lot more Salmon Ladder going on.

**A/N: **Thanks for the feedback, guys! Both Josie and I are relieved to know that it wasn't just us picking up creeper vibes from Palmer...okay, well Josie doesn't actually care if anyone else did, but _I_ appreciate it. Also, I'm ignoring last week's episode, which I like to call "Everyone Makes Really Questionable Choices", because they did, and in some cases 'questionable' was putting it extremely delicately.

In response, here's someone who **_doesn't_** make poor decisions.

* * *

He knows how it looks, a'ight? Stereotypical big black man coverin' the door to some club in the Glades with every little white girl wannabe socialite, totterin' around on heels that he's surprised hasn't actually snapped on someone yet, making 'em break their skinny little ankles, tryin' t' flirt their way in. If he was any less of a man, he'd prolly cry. Shit, LeTasha's already gone off on his behalf, when he told about the gig. Talkin' 'bout how proud black men don't need to be takin' servitude jobs when they've already gone through enough.

Yeah? Well, proud black men gotta eat. And put a roof over their head. And pay the bills on time so they don't turn into homeless black men. Shit. Demanuel's not crazy about the job, but a check's a check and Verdant pays decent, prolly better than most other places. It should, seeing how the Queens own it. They lost most of their fortune, but rich people broke ain't the same as everybody else's broke. 'Specially not someone livin' in the Glades broke.

He's good at his job cause Nana raised them that something worth doing was something worth doing well. And cause he owes it to Dig, who got him the position. Never thought talking to brotha about nephews and babies would turn into a job offer, but there it is, yanno? Dig's straight, so Demanuel does the best he can to keep Verdant legit. No obviously wasted customers, no underage thrill seekers trying to get in, no bribes through the door, and no drugs. Shit, after that Vertigo scare twice, it's been fuckin' hammered home by Dig, Big Queen and Little Queen and even the Harper kid. NO DRUGS. Even if it wasn't, D don't let that shit in his house.

And look at him soundin' like Miss Smoak, makin' it sound like they family or somethin'. 'Work Family', she calls it. A'ight fair enough, you ask him, Verdant's crew ain't too bad. Can't say he'd ever see himself workin' for a tiny little white rich girl, but Thea's growin' on him. She's pretty easy as far as bosses go. Her brother's the one that's a little tighter on the reigns when he bothers to show up as Oliver Queen and not the Arrow dude he thinks no one knows about.

But nigga, please. Ain't nobody who got two eyes and half a brain can't figure that shit out after a couple checks around the building. The Queen Car is parked in the back, so is the bike he knows the Arrow rides when he's out shootin' dudes. And Miss Smoak's little Mini. And that ain't much but add that to the fact he's seen the Hood and his crew around the building regularly? Shit, anyone can put two and two together.

But, whatever. They wanna dress up and go out and save the city? Fine by D. They out on the streets in the Glades, too, bustin' up the gangs, makin' safer for his sister when she gotta come home after dark, from work. They takin' care of his family so Demanuel's got their back, too. Just gotta keep his eyes open and mouth shut. Easy. Hmph, family...soundin' like Miss Smoak, again...white people...

* * *

I like Demanuel. He makes me smile for some reason. I have a feeling we'll hear from him again. What do you think?

_**Please Review.**_


	5. H (Alec Hardison)

**DISCLAIMER: **Neither Arrow nor Leverage is mine. If they had been, there would have been much merging, and that many people ready to smack Oliver Queen and Nathan Ford on the nose with a rolled up newspaper.

**A/N:** Whoops! Now this just became a cross over! This one isn't contingent on having watched **_Leverage_**, but if you've not seen it, you should check all 5 glorious seasons out...especially if you like Arrow. Many things are the same: Robin Hood theme, Team IDs (Emotionally suppressed boss, awesome muscle who is more than just muscle, mouthy hacker), questionable decision making, WAITT fluff...

* * *

There are places on the web, the deep web, where people with their particular skill set interact, mostly for the opportunity to show off how good they are, but it's a community all the same. Friendships form in between boasting of exploits and bonding over love of other interests and hobbies. Felicity doesn't really visit too often in between her duties at work and her duty to Oliver's work, but she keeps tabs on those she has rapport with. Which is how she knows who it is that's been pinging her searches on some of the people on The List. After a brief confrontation in which both parties want to know what the other is doing-looking into dangerous men, without admitting their own reasons-they come to an understanding.

H works in a team of five to bring down the rich and powerful that have gotten so by preying on their victims: H's clients. She's familiar with the concept. Once it becomes apparent that they both hold the same role in their respective teams, working on a common goal, a deeper and more truthful connection is born. Felicity still keeps her teams' identity a secret, because _duh_...but suddenly it becomes a little easier to let off steam by discussing with her fellow hacker the latest technology available that's relevant to their positions. H shares the technology used to make his team's comms, always field tested by their resident muscle. Felicity's impressed enough by the schematics that she orders some from Team Arrow. She's dug up extra info for a non-Starling bad guy for H, that he wasn't able to access before. Together they re-task a satellite and find a missing child that made the national news for the Amber Alert. And amidst all that they bemoan their own woes about their teams.

H dislikes the manipulation his leader displays, Felicity sympathizes and despises the way hers punishes himself to physical exhaustion just to avoid talking about feelings. They can't share victories because that's giving too much away, but they reveal when they are victorious sometimes, if it's been a long one, or a close one, or a hard one. They both feel like the human one of the team, amongst all these other gods, so the sometimes, subtle loneliness is carried together in understanding. But they've got each other to talk to, and usually remind each other with their signature phrases:

**You can always talk to me, you know.**

_I got you, girl. I got you._

* * *

In my perfect world where not everything hurts and Oliver only sometimes makes bad choices, I fully believe that Alec Hardison and Felicity Smoak become internet buddies and end up finding each others secret identity and helping out on open cases/jobs/whathaveyous and then completely complaining about Team drama in the down time, including insecurities. Leverage fans know that Hardison likes to peacock, but to be honest, he's a sensitive soul; much more likely to seek out advice.


	6. Helpful Interference

**DISCLAIMER:** If I owned Arrow, Oliver Queen or any of the stories or characters in this universe, the entire thing would be about a man that makes decent life choices and and much more lighting on half naked men. I'm sorry if that seems shallow, but it's true.

* * *

The thing Oliver Queen likes best about Big Belly Burger is the lack of celebrity status treatment he gets when he's there. Team Arrow (not that they call it that) has become well known as regulars, so they aren't completely ignored, but saying "Hi, how are you?" are the most attention they get from anyone not on staff.

So it's a little odd when he catches Dig watching an exchange at the counter with obvious interest. Dig and Carly have been over for ages, so Oliver knows it's not that part of the equation, though Carly is talking to a Girl Scout and a young woman before she smiles and points out their table.

The girl and the woman standing with the Girl Scout turn and upon recognizing them, the Girl Scout beams and comes over, a piece of paper in her hand.

"Girl from AJ's class," Diggle explains quickly, before greeting the girl with a warm tone. "Hey, McKayla!"

"Hi, Mr. Diggle! Ms. Diggle said you might like to buy some cookies."

"Oh! Is it that time, already?" Felicity pipes up next to him, eyes bright.

"Well, she's right," Dig confirms holding his hand out for the order form. "I love my Tagalongs." He and Felicity huddle together for a moment, conversing over their respective orders, before John looks up. "What about you, Oliver? You want any?"

All eyes swing to him and feeling strangely on the spot, Oliver shifts before confessing, "I've never actually had any Girl Scout cookies before."

Their reactions are instantaneous. Dig looks taken aback, Felicity's jaw drops and the two incredulous expressions from the girl and her minder are weighing heavily.

"Get out," Felicity says at the same time the other female responds with, "Shut-up!"

The gazes turn on the woman, who colors, catching herself, hand flying to her mouth. She turns to the Girl Scout abruptly. "You didn't hear that," she states.

McKayla simply smiles, the picture of innocence, and holds out and expectant hand to the woman. Her smile turns smug when she's rewarded with a dollar. Suitably satisfied, McKayla turns to Oliver. "Did you want to buy any, Sir?" she asks.

"Thin Mints are the most common," the woman states casually.

Felicity nods in agreement, blonde ponytail bobbing. "I _love_ the Thin Mints."

"They're pretty good, man," Dig says.

In the end, Oliver decides to get a box of each, oddly curious about the highly lauded treats. And, as Felicity points out later, the money goes for a great cause.

* * *

He gets a phone call from Dig a few weeks later, announcing that McKayla had just dropped off his cookies, as a heads-up.

Felicity, who'd been nearby at the office, during the call, does an adorable little shimmy of joy. "Yay!"

So, he's a little confused when he gets a call from a number he doesn't recognize, hours later, informing him of some bad news: McKayla's at the hospital because of a car wreck. The woman on the other end sounds tired and frustrated.

"Is everyone alright?" Oliver asks sincerely.

"My sister and McKayla are both being kept overnight for concussion checks," she tells him. "I'm staying for a little while to make sure they're both settled, but Kay's been pitching a fit about delivering the cookies on time, so I'll be dropping them off this evening." She sighs heavily and then continues in a matter-of-fact manner. "So, where's good for you? Since it'll be later, I figure you won't be at your office?"

"No," Oliver acknowledges. "I won't." After a second of deliberation he offers, "Why don't you drop them off for me at Verdant?"

"That club in the Glades? That's yours?"

"Yes; it is."

"Okay," the female agrees. "Shall we say nine'o'clock? I've got some more deliveries and that should be my last stop….or will you be open then?" she asks hesitantly.

Since his managers (first Tommy, and now Thea) typically have all things involving Verdant well in hand, he's unused to viewing the club as anything other than a cover for his evening work. And so Oliver finds a slight amount of humor in being asked something as simple as his club's operating hours. He allows himself a small smile and the amusement to be heard in his voice as he replies with, "Verdant will be open then."

* * *

Which of course, he promptly forgets all about when one of Felicity's scans alerts to a ring of drug dealers they've been trying to get the drop on (Dig refused to play up to the black stereotype again and so they've been in a waiting period) while they were still at the office. Cue leaving QC early and not only dealing with the drug ring, but a patrol of both the docks at the harbor and a lower middle class suburb. (As it's been pointed out, the Arrow shouldn't be patrolling just one area of the city, if he doesn't intend to fail it.) It's only when he returns to Verdant for a brief reprieve and update that he remembers his promise to the woman on the phone, as he lands on the roof of his club.

He hears the voice before he sees her, the young woman with McKayla, staring down his doorman with a plastic sack of boxes clutched closely to her chest. "No offense, but you and I both know I'm not rocking the club-look, and if you think I'm giving up my only currency at the front door, you need your head examined."

Oliver curses to himself. He'd forgotten to get her name to the bouncer, and he can't very well drop down as the Arrow and okay her entrance as the boss.

By a miraculous stroke of luck, Demanuel joins them outside, from whatever he'd been doing indoors. "What's goin' on?"

"Cookie delivery," the woman insists, before the other bouncer can open his mouth. "But I've been trying to explain these only go in the hands of the person who ordered them. He just won't let me in to deliver."

"Ain't you a little old to be a Girl Scout?" Demanuel asks warily. He jerks his chin at the sack. "Who ordered 'em?"

"Oliver Queen ordered them from my **niece**, who is in the hospital from a _car wreck_," she spits out, glaring at the men.

After a full second, Demanuel cocks his head before his eyes fly to overhead for the briefest of moments.

Oliver stays perfectly still in the shadows that the night affords him.

"You sell any to Dig?" the young man asks casually.

She pauses. "You mean Mr. Diggle?" At the sharp nod she gets, she nods quickly as well. "Yeah. He got Tagalongs and Thin Mints 'cause McKayla's in his nephew's class at school…he was with Mr. Queen that day in Big Belly!"

Demanuel turns to his fellow Bouncer. "She's good, man. I'll take her to Little Queen."

At the other man's acceptance, Demanuel leads the young woman and her package into the club.

* * *

It takes two more nights until Oliver finally gets an opportunity to open a box with a glass of milk that Dig and Felicity insist on. At first bite, he resolves that Demanuel is either due for a bonus or a raise for being an excellent doorman. Since Oliver knows he won't eat more than one or two of each flavor, he idly wonders if the Bouncer will accept cookies as payment….

* * *

**A/N:** This originally was meant to highlight McKayla's aunt, but as you can see, it became a Demanuel piece, which I am so thankful for. I've been dying for him to come back and halfway into this narrative, he finally reappeared! I hope you're as pleased as I am to see his return!

_**Please Review.**_


	7. The whole damn point

**DISCLAIMER: **Let's not fool ourselves, shall we? None of us are as dumb as certain man in green.

**A/N:** Because I love all of you. And because it's been a year since I've updated. This drabble should speak for itsself.

* * *

The best part about other folks than just their team knowing Oliver's secret identity, is that there are that many more people to tell him off when he's being a bonehead.

Mama manages to whack him with a wooden spoon to make her point-something not even Felicity could get away with.

Josie straight up calls him "a fucking idiot."

Demanuel just gives him a deeply unimpressed face, reminiscent of Digg's usual expression, with a lot more judgement.

(Roy finds all of this hilarious.)

Because, really, it takes a village to deal with a vigilante.


End file.
